


To the Musketeers

by Moon_Rose (Moonrose91)



Series: Horse Raised Knowledge [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, I had d'Art be the son of a horse breeder, Two Shot, Well Mostly a Horse Breeder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:30:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2012814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moon_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex let Roger go with tears streaming down his face and Roger being stone.</p><p>Roger greeted d'Artagnan to the sound of d'Artagnan's laughter and Roger being a foal in a horse's body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Last Day of Childhood

**Author's Note:**

> Totally spoiler for what happens, but it is supposed to be sads followed by fluff.

Alex smiled from his spot on the rock wall, rolling an apple around in his hands, as he watched a herd of horses marked to be taken to training for the Musketeers meander around the pasture. While the majority was black, at seventeen he could easily see which horses were pure Friesland and which were a mix.

There were some who were brown or chestnut (and that one gray that stood out like a sore thumb) but they all moved with similar enough strides that Alex had come to know in horses that kept well and could go for a longer length of time over speed (though some were also quite fast, quickly eating up the miles under their hooves). He watched them for a while longer before he pursed his lips and gave a whistle that was _almost_ like a skylark’s song, but not really.

A horse’s head lifted at the whistle and he repeated it until the horse broke free of the herd. Alex smiled and broke the apple in half, flicking the seeds out of flesh and outside the pasture. He carefully placed both halves on the cloth he had the apple wrapped in just as the gelding came to a stop before him. “Hey Roger,” he murmured in the language he made with his mother and the gelding nickered in greeting, stepping up to nuzzle Alex.

Alex scratched his cheek and twisted slightly to press his forehead to the gelding’s forehead, right between the eyes. The gelding snorted softly, but stayed still as Alex closed his eyes, scratching what he could reach. He then slowly released the gelding and picked up one half of the apple, offering it to the gelding.

Roger immediately lipped it up until he could bite it in half, apple slobber coming back over Alex’s hand as he rubbed Roger’s neck. “Today is a big day, Roger. Today is the last day we see each other,” he murmured softly in the secret language he now only knew, feeling a weight build up in the back of his throat.

“You’re going to be a Musketeer’s horse,” he continued softly, choking on his words as Roger snorted softly, leaving half an apple still in Alex’s slobber and apple bit coated hand.

“Carry them well, Roger, please? Keep them safe,” he begged softly, the words tripping easily off his tongue in a way no language known by many did, even as he began to sob.

Distant memories of late night chats with his mother while his father smiled on indulgently, unable to keep up as they slaughtered words in all the languages they were fluent in, careful to only use it within their four walls that no longer stood, long gutted by flames that still burned in his memory. It was those distant memories that collided and mixed with nights soothing foals that still missed their mother. Who suckled on his fingers and could not begin to understand that the milk was not from there and who hesitated to approach the wine bottles of goat’s milk after the forged nipple had fallen off to spill goat’s milk over them, nearly getting into eyes. Who had followed him and greeted him every day and who had disliked being separated, but eventually took it in as good of grace as they could.

Of two horses that never ate a whole apple, only half, no matter how he tried to ‘trick’ them.

He nearly fell off the wall in surprise when he felt a horse nuzzle his cheek. Doing his best to blink back tears, he recognized Roger’s soft whicker before his head was dropping over Alex’s shoulder, as if to hug him, settling himself in a way that mimicked how he stood when Alex hugged him around his strong neck, gently.

Alex didn’t hesitate long after that realization to wrap his arms around the gelding’s neck, burying his face into the gelding’s mane. “I’m going to miss you,” he whispered as he held on as tight as he dared the gelding as unmoving as the stone.


	2. Return to Childhood Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after "Friends and Enemies"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to my maths ([found here](http://moonrose91.tumblr.com/post/92778990892/how-much-time-passes-between-friends-and-enemies-and)) 52 days have passed since d'Art helped save Athos from being killed via firing squad.
> 
> The timeline I made is in the End Notes though.

D'Artagnan smiled as he scrubbed Portia's neck before he glanced at the hostler, making sure to tug the saddlebags over his shoulder. He debated, briefly, taking his saddle with him, before he carefully pulled it forward until Portia could easily bite anyone who tried to take it. "Good girl," he murmured lowly in the language that only belonged to him and his foals.

"Will you be lodging your horse here long, Monsieur?" the hostler inquired and d’Artagnan shook his head.

“No, just till evening,” d’Artagnan answered, knowing he would not keep her here, even as he handed the coins over to the hostler.

He wouldn’t have even left her here, if he could permit it, but he wasn’t sure how long his business with Captain Treville would take. He wasn’t even sure if the man was aware of the fact his father was dead and swallowed back his emotions as he stepped out onto the street, walking towards the Garrison.

*~*~*

As he walked into the Garrison, d’Artagnan slowed to take it in, revenge having blinded him previously.

Today seemed to be the day farrier came to check on the horses, as he was working out of the way, and Porthos and Aramis discussing something at the table closest to the stairway. “I still think it is stupid,” Porthos stated.

“I don’t fast…completely. It is foolish in the life of a Musketeer, but you can at least respect my religion,” Aramis answered and Porthos snorted, even as d’Artagnan slowly crossed over to them, glancing over to the farrier when he heard a muffled curse as a groom began to lead a headstrong, probably gelding, out of the stable and into the yard.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Porthos stated in a manner that suggested he didn’t believe Aramis in the slightest.

“Pardon, monsieurs,” he greeted and both looked up, Aramis smiling brightly while Porthos laughed a bit.

“D’Artagnan! We did not think we would see you again!” Aramis exclaimed.

“Well, I have business to attend back here in Paris,” he explained, hesitant to relinquish his saddlebags to Porthos before he let them go, looking over his shoulder when he heard a familiar whinny, as the gelding began to back away from the groom, who was now trying to hold him still.

“Oh? Come to visit us then before you carry on back to Lupiac?” Aramis inquired.

“No, actually, it is…here, with the Musketeers,” d’Artagnan answered, distracted by the horse, stepping forward as… _Roger_ whinnied and turned slightly to stare at him.

“Roger?” d’Artagnan called, feeling his heart race in his chest as, in a move d’Artagnan was _very_ familiar with, the rope slipped right out of the groom’s hands and the gelding rushed over to him, doing small rears that were more like bounces.

He snorted and tossed his head, even as d’Artagnan laughed, and caught the rope, the gelding nudging at his jacket pocket. “I don’t have anything in there, you silly foal,” d’Artagnan scolded with laughter coating every word as he shoved lightly at the gelding’s neck.

The gelding perked up and pushed his nose against d’Artagnan’s head, nickering softly as he nosed d’Artagnan as much as he could, nearly sending him off his feet.

Roger hadn’t acted so rambunctious since he was a foal, and d’Artagnan didn’t have the heart to stop him, not yet. Not after four years of knowing _nothing_ , not even if he succeeded in going on to the Musketeers, and d’Artagnan murmured soothingly in their language, Roger slowly calming until he was just rubbing his head against d’Artagnan’s shoulder, and d’Artagnan was just scratching his neck. “I see you’ve lost him again Jacques,” Athos stated and d’Artagnan looked up from his focus on Roger to find that everyone was staring at him, still as stone.

D’Artagnan looked back down at Roger, who had stopped using him as a scratching post, smiling upon seeing one ear cocked towards Athos, waiting for him to speak. “Found your Musketeer I see,” d’Artagnan murmured softly in their language, even as the groom, Jacques, began to speak.

“Sorry Monsieur Athos, but he just…ran right up to _him_.”

“I can see that. Maybe our young friend can share how to keep him still for the farrier without me having to stand at his head and talk to him constantly,” Athos stated and d’Artagnan blinked a bit before shrugging a little.

He pressed a hand to Roger’s chest, murmuring for him to stand and dropped the rope, Roger becoming stone. He then reached into his saddlebag and fetched out an apple he had bought at a stall. “He hates apples,” Athos stated as d’Artagnan twisted off the stem, Roger perking forward once more.

D’Artagnan didn’t bother to correct Athos as he found the best spot to push and with a thick _crack_ sound, two apple halves were in his hands. Roger began to reach forward, but his hooves remained rooted. “Tchat,” d’Artagnan stated and flicked the apple seeds out quickly, biting lightly onto one as he pulled out a plain cloth, dropping the one from his mouth into it before wrapping it one-handed and setting it on the table.

He then offered the half to Roger, smiling as the gelding lipped at it and then crunched, the slobber coating his bare hand. “He has _never_ eaten an apple before,” Porthos stated.

“He doesn’t like whole apples. He’s never had one before,” d’Artagnan stated, even as he felt Roger pulling up the next part, crunching it into oblivion.

“And, is there a trick to keeping him still without having to stand at his head?” Athos asked, stepping forward to take Roger from d’Artagnan, the gelding easily following him.

“I’m afraid not. Unfortunately, my cousin was the farrier we had, and Roger did not like him. He’s carried this dislike on to other poor unfortunate souls,” d’Artagnan answered as he wiped the slobber off on his pants, unable to do anything else.

He nearly jumped right out of his skin when an authoritative voice said, “Maybe we should hire you for the stables, purely to keep Roger in check.”

D’Artagnan looked up and gave a weak smile at the gray haired man, who he recognized from five years ago, and ducked his head slightly without looking to the ground. “I was there for Roger’s formative training, Captain,” d’Artagnan answered honestly.

“What brings you from Lupiac, Monsieur?” Captain Treville questioned.

“Reassurances that the change of ownership will not affect the quality of horses, Captain,” d’Artagnan answered, blinking rapidly and ignoring the sharp focus that landed on him for the words.

Captain Treville let out a long sigh, before nodding sharply. “Come up,” he ordered and stepped away from the railing.

“Yes, Captain,” d’Artagnan stated, and shouldered his saddlebags once more.

He gave a head bow to Athos, Aramis, and Porthos in turn before he pat Roger’s neck, the gelding nudging his arm, before d’Artagnan pulled away to walk up the stairs.

While it had lasted, it had been good to return to childhood days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _On the Julian Calendar_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> January 4 – d’Art and his father leave Lupiac for Paris to petition the King about taxes
> 
> January 18 – fourteen days on the road, they stop at an Inn and d’Art’s father is killed aka, the beginning of “Friends and Enemies”
> 
> January 20 – d’Art confronts Athos, Athos is arrested, and is sentenced to hang tomorrow at dawn
> 
> January 21 – they save Athos, d’Art is accepted by Aramis and Porthos, Porthos probably takes money from d’Art before he sees common sense and stops betting aka, the end of “Friends and Enemies”
> 
> January 22 – d’Art leaves Paris for Lupiac
> 
> February 10 – Lent in 1630 begins, from what I can gather of when Lent is supposed to start (Ash Wednesday, as France is Roman Catholic and that’s when Lent starts for Roman Catholics)
> 
> February 22 – d’Art arrives in Lupiac
> 
> February 25 – funeral for his father
> 
> March 1 – d’Art leaves Lupiac back for Paris
> 
> March 15 – d’Art arrives in Paris and goes straight to talk to Treville, after putting his horse up in a stable, and, after speaking with Treville, probably gets pointed in the direction of the Bonnacieux house for a room
> 
> March 25 – d’Art is thrown into the Châtelet aka, the start of “Sleight of Hand”

**Author's Note:**

> Something you want to see in this crazy universe that was born from desperation, 2 am brain, and a really good prompt?
> 
> Ask! I'll probably have a thing up in 2 to 4 days!


End file.
